As far as months go, this one has not been brilliant. I'm not sure whether it's just me, or the month of May in particular, or perhaps a combination of the two, but either way, it could have been a lot better, a lot shorter, and a lot less tiring. And, while we're at it, a lot less windy.
Last night, after I fell asleep, someone broke into my house, crept up to the bedroom, and spent a good five hours jumping up and down on my spine in steel-toed workboots before attempting to throttle me with my own tongue. At least, that's what it felt like this morning when I woke up.
It’s one o’clock in the morning, the sun is shining through the window, and I’m travelling backwards through time.
You know, I’ve been writing these articles for almost four years now, and I’ve always wanted to write an introduction just like that one, because, let’s face it, it’s pretty cool as far as introductions go.
Before you settle down to get your teeth into this month’s article, there are three things you need to know right away. The first thing is, I don’t make cakes. Secondly, I’m making a cake. And finally, this is an article about me making a cake.
As I type this out at the kitchen table, there is one-third of a cake baking in the oven. It’ll be done in about ten minutes…
Herbert W. Armstrong, John Roe, William M. Branham, Leland Jensen, Hal Lindsey, Chuck Smith, John Gribbin, Benjamin Creme and Harold Camper… all names you’ve probably never heard before. And yet this assorted collection of idiots and intellectuals - plus another hundred or so that I’ve left out to ensure that you actually make it past this first paragraph without banging your head repeatedly against the nearest wall in frustration - all have one thing in common…
They all predicted the end of the world.
This April, my wife, my kids and yours truly are taking off to America for a two-week holiday, as avid readers of this monthly nonsense will remember me banging on about a couple of months ago. The flights for all four of us cost an arm and a leg, the travel insurance set me back a kidney, and the necessary permits to get into the country deprived me of another handful of non-vital body parts that I didn’t even know I had.
I have a head full of trivia.
I don't know why this should be, but it's true. Random facts and useless bits of information seem to stick around in my memory like nobody's business, to be recalled instantly whenever the need arises. The problem is, of course, that the need never really arises. Nobody has ever - not once - asked me why vampires can't see their reflections in mirrors, for example, and it's really difficult to crowbar such a topic into everyday conversation. Which is a shame, because it's quite interesting really.
You may remember me, a few months ago, writing about how restless I was feeling, how bored with the same old, same old I was, and how I had suddenly become overcome by the desire to travel. If you do, then well and good. If you don't, then don't worry too much about it - there's no test at the end of this article.
I have a love-hate relationship with airplanes. The 'love' part is fairly straightforward, so let's get that over with right away...
I love airplanes because they get me from where I am to where I want to be in a relatively quick and easy way, in a straight line from A to B, across the C.
There you go. I told you it was fairly straightforward.
What I hate about airplanes is pretty much everything else.